Batman: Case of the Serpent Syndicate 3
by TheMisterMage
Summary: When Bruce Wayne finds out that he has been ineffective as just a vigilante in a ski-mask, he decides that he needs to become something more... something that could be lurking in every shadow, around every corner... the BATMAN. In his first outing, Batman will encounter a foe the world long though dead, a world renowned killer, and a love he long thought lost...


****Author:**** u/JPM11S

 ****Book:**** Batman

 ****Arc:**** Case of the Serpent Society

My name is Bruce Wayne. When I was 8 years old, my parents and those of my friends were shot in an alley in front of our very eyes. That day, I swore to myself that I would stop the crime that took my parents from me. To do this, I devoted my life to honing my body and mind into becoming a weapon in which to fight evil. I am vengeance. I am the night. I. AM. BATMAN.

He's hurt.

He's surrounded.

But he's not afraid.

 ****GOTHAM CITY - LAMBERT'S MANSION - June 2nd, 1958****

 _*Inside the mansion… *_

'* _The damn officers must have woken up!*_ ' thought Batman.

Heart thumping out of his chest, Batman's mind raced for a solution to the problem at hand. He was surrounded on all sides by the GCPD and his friend, Detective Jim Gordon, was screaming for "The Bat-Man" to come out with his hands on his head. Needless to say, things were not looking good. Even though he had trained under what were unquestionably the best, most experienced teachers in the world in the martial arts, Batman still couldn't simply walk out right into the open and fight several SWAT teams, all armed to the teeth, as much as he may have wanted to.

You know maybe, just maybe, Batman could do as his dear friend was screaming. Right now, he could come out with his hands on his bat-eared head and not be littered with bullet holes. Sure he would be surrendering himself to the law that thought him a murderer. Sure he will have failed his mission before it even really began. But you know what? The charges wouldn't stick once they found out he was who he was. Maybe he'd be thrown into Arkham Asylum, but he could pull some strings and get himself out of there. He could live the rest of his life as Bruce Wayne, well feed, happy. Maybe even be with Andrea, now that she was back.

For a moment, just a fleeting, insular moment, Batman let his shoulders slump, giving into the fantasy that deep down, perhaps what he really wanted, but at the end of day, still let a child watch their parents he brutally murdered in front of their eyes. ' _No, never again,_ ' thought Batman, eyes snapping back from their lull, ' _will a kid have to cry over the bloodied bodies of their parents. Not while the goddamn Batman is around._ '

'* _Remember your training…*_ ' thought Batman, trying to recall the words of wisdom of his many masters, ' _Theatricality. Deception. These are tools that let one man engage a hundred. The tools that make him something more in the mind of his enemy._ ' For how they left things off, Batman could not deny the impact the training of Ra's al' Ghul had had on him. Especially right now, as he was about to take a page right out of Ras's handbook.

Running around the mansion, Batman looked for various odds and ends in which to rig a series of traps at the entrance of the mansion. Since he couldn't fight his way through the SWAT teams surrounding the place, he needed a way to level the playing field, which in this case meant waiting around till one of the teams came into the building and having them walk into a series of traps. Grabbing a set of knives from the kitchen as well as bags of flour and a few ropes, Batman began to set his plan into motion…

 _*Outside the mansion, 30 minutes later… *_

The police sirens roared around the monstrosity that was the Lambert family mansion, pulsating blue and red lights casting their glow to the surrounding area, reflecting in the windows. Taking cover behind the squad cars, police officers had their guns fixated on an enemy that would never appear, the "Bat-Man" as they were _affectionately_ calling him. Suspected in the murder of two of Gotham's wealthiest, the mayor had made it a priority to bring the mad man to justice. At least, Gotham's version of justice, which didn't really know what the word meant, to say the least.

Taking a deep breath of the cold, nighttime air, Detective Jim Gordon yelled into his microphone, "THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!"

At this point he knew it was pointless, the "Bat-Man" wasn't going to come quietly. Glancing around him, Jim took stock of the rather generous force he had been granted, all for just another crazy murderer in Gotham. While he was glad for the detail and how much easier it would make his job, Jim only took it as yet another sign of corruption in the city, something that would be considered a textbook case of metal gymnastics by any rational, sane person, but not to him. No, he'd seen the way the elite in this city acted, the filth they had their hands plunged into. If someone was targeting them, regardless of whether or not it was intentional, they were damn sure going to respond in overwhelming force.

Taking his walkie-talkie from his belt, Jim radioed, "SWAT team one, you are clear to go. And please, don't wreck the place."

"Copy that, Gordon."

Leaping out the armored truck, the heavily armed men jogged towards the front doors of the mansion, jiggling the door handle to try and open it. When it did not yield to them, a more… direct approach was tried. One of the officers shot in the lock, bullet splintering the expense wood around it. Kicking in the doors, the team turned on their flashlights, automatic guns held up against their shoulders, eyes wide.

 _*Inside the mansion… *_

One foot in front of the other, tip-toeing carefully through the entrance, footsteps sending creaks along the hardwood floors, the men kept their eyes, and guns, primed for any sign of movement.

"You know, they say this bat guy has got wings." whispered one of the men.

"And claws too." replied another.

"So why do you think he killed those percenters?"

"Don't know. Ask me though, he's doin' us all a favor. You ever had the displeasure of talking to one of 'em?"

"No."

"I've run guard duty for some of 'em. Death threats you know. Of course we get sent out to guard 'em 'cuz they demanded it. Some of the snobbiest ass holes I've had the displeasure of- AHHH!"

Nine left.

Everyone whipped their heads around, adrenaline instantly pumping through their veins as they looked for where their teammate had gone.

"Group up," ordered the commander, "don't let him pick us off one by one."

With the precision that only comes from years of practice, the SWAT team huddled up in a circle, each member facing out, gun scanning for a target that was playing it smart. A dangerous target that was playing it smart. Suddenly, the air filled with flour, obscuring their vision and filling their lungs, coughing as a feeble attempt to remove the foreign substance.

Eight left.

Seven left.

Six left.

The flour cleared from the air, the remaining men left with the sight of the bodies of their comrades missing from the field of battle. They weren't afraid before, but they are now.

Bursting from behind, bits of drywall flying all over the place, a pair of arms emerged, catching one of the officers, his gurgling sounds filling the room and he was violently dragged into the abyss.

Five left.

"Holy shit, man!"

"Keep it together."

"We're all gonna die, aren't we?"

"Not if-"

A black cloak drifted down in front of them.

"It's him!"

They all opened fire, littering the man with enough bullets to kill an elephant ten times over. When they thought he was properly dead, a brave volunteer crept up to check out the body. Kneeling down, he found only a black blanket. They'd been tricked.

A men's legs instantly fell out from underneath him as the "Bat-Man" assaulted him, first sweeping the legs and then following up with strike to the trachea, causing him to gasp for air as it was robbed of him.

Four left.

Mustering all his remaining speed, bullet fire whizzing past, Batman hurried to his next target, lashing out with a blow that cracked their face mask and simultaneously, with a practiced flick of the wrist, unleashing several batarangs onto another SWAT member, only for them to clang helplessly against the bullet proof vest. The same officer that had had his face mask cracked by Batman, came up behind him, wrapping his arms around and pulling back, exposing his belly for a clear shot. Quickly, reaching down into his utility belt, Batman let loose a choking pellet, the room quickly filled with a gas that strangled everyone who breathed it in. The officer's grip on Batman now loose as he entered a coughing fit, Batman took the opportunity to shove a batarang into his side, following it up with a kick to his knee that instantly shattered it.

Three left.

Staggering about, waving his hands around as to fan the gas away from him, Batman made his way to the wall, breathing heavily as he slumped down against it, trying to find a brief respite from what was proving to be a grueling fight. So far, he hadn't been hurt, due not to his physical prowess, as powerful as it may be, but rather his playing it smart, lurking in the shadows and jumping out. Becoming something more in the mind of his enemy. Becoming a monster that could be lurking in every shadow. Just like he was taught. He had to keep it up though, as physically draining as it may be, as one blow to any of his many stitches and they would burst, letting forth what would surely be a fountain of blood. As a matter of fact, Batman considered himself lucky for them having not broken after he took that fall. The gas began to clear, the fight ready to begin anew.

Finally freed from their coughing fit, eyes now red and swollen from the lack of oxygen, the three remaining SWAT officers dragged their weary bodies up from the ground, attempting to apprehend their target. From his position on the ground, Batman took a deep breath and darted up, trying to gain the advantage before his opponents could ready themselves. Hands wrapping around one of the men's throat, Batman choke slammed him to the ground, something that would prove to have exerted too much of his dwindling reserves. For the briefest second, Batman paused, hands falling to his knees as he tried to catch his breath, though it was long enough for him to knocked to ground with the butt of one of the officers guns.

Helpless on the ground, Batman began to be pummeled by the three remaining men, one of which had picked himself back up after be slammed down. Curling up, legs held tight against his chest and his arms shielding his head, he tried to weather the beating being dealt to him. Blow after blow, the men threatened to break bone, or worse, open up an old wound. His costume offering no protection, it being nothing more than fabric, his body eventually gave in, bone fracturing underneath the powerful blows.

Roaring like an animal, Batman burst up from his near fetal position, a newfound adrenaline rush rocketing through his veins and culminating in a primal roar, the officers stepping back in fear. With a practiced flick of his, as of yet, unfractured wrist, Batman landed a batarang in the gun of one of the officers, rendering it useless as it flew out of his hand. In a single, spinning motion, Batman simultaneously kicked the gun out of another officers hand, and grabbed the gun from the only one left, wasting no time in breaking it across the officers face, sending bits of blood and tooth flying.

Now thoroughly disarmed, Batman and his opponents stood off against each other, both sides bruised and bleeding. Breathing heavily, Batman stared them down, trying to devise the best ways to incapacitate them. He could tackle the middle one, get him down to the ground quickly, but then he'd just be jumped on by the other two and this time, he wasn't sure he could get back up. Maybe he could go all the way to side, take one of them down. No, then he'd just run into the same problem. A dark gleam of inspiration flashed in Batman's eyes as an idea popped into his head.

Taking out his grappling hook, Batman flung it at the officer standing directly in front of him, the hook plunging itself into his shoulder and then followed by a powerful pull from Batman, sending the poor man flying into the ground, his face mask and shoulder thoroughly shattered.

Two left.

One foot in front of the other, Batman stepped closer and closer to the men before him, both of which were quivering as the menacing figure of the "Bat-Man" inched closer. Now towering over them, both men threw feeble punches at Batman, only for him to catch each, twisting until he felt their wrists shatter. Taking one of the men's arms, he broke it, pushing him onto the ground and stomping on his knee until he shattered it, just to make it clear for him not to get back up.

Turning to last remaining officer, Batman growled, "You… you'll do nicely."

 _Outside the mansion…_

"No! No! Oh my god no! Please! Don't!"

The man clawed at the hand dangling him over the edge of the mansion, for what reason, he didn't know. If the "Bat-Man" dropped him, he'd plummet down to the ground below, the exact fate he was trying to avoid. Perhaps then, it was merely a instinctual response fueled by the panic wracking his body.

He tried to sputter out a few words, "P… please! Do… n't * _ugh*_ … drop me!"

Thud.

A sharp howle escaped his lips as he dented the roof of a police car with his fall, shattering the blinking red and blue sirens on top. Immediately, several paramedics rushed to the screaming officer, Jim followed close behind.

"Are you alright?!" shouted one of the paramedics, shining a flashlight in his eyes.

"I'm… I fine." moaned the officer.

"What happened in there!?" asked Jim Gordon.

"We went in… then… then, oh my god. He picked us off one by one, sir. There was so much blood. Pretty sure he ripped Taylor's arm off!

Jim's eyes widened.

"Someone get the hell in there! We might be able to save a few!"

One of the paramedics tapped Jim on the shoulder.

"Uh, sir, we found this on him. Just thought you should know. We think it's for you."

Jim took the note in hands, "Don't come after me." he read, a scowl coming over his face and eyes filling with rage as he crumpled the paper and threw it as far as his old arms would allow.

his eye's flaring with rage as he crumpled it up and threw it as far as his old arms would allow.

 ****GOTHAM CITY - WAYNE MANOR - SECRET ROOM - June 3rd, 1958****

There was much more to Wayne Manor than meets-the-eye. Underneath the gothic fortress lay an elaborate and extensive cave system, home to thousands, if not millions, of bats. There were also the many secret rooms of the mansion, one of which, Bruce had modified to be his base of operations, housing the plethora of equipment at his disposal in his endeavors as Batman.

Sitting at the large desk before him, Bruce studied the magazine he had taken from Lambert's mansion, trying to decrypt the many hidden texts scattered throughout the magazine. The method used to hide the messages wasn't particularly complex, at least for someone of Bruce's calibur, but regardless, they did take a while to decrypt, much to Alfred's joy. At last, a brief break for Bruce's aleiling body.

'* _Just move this letter here… now this… and here we go!_ ' thought Bruce, leaning back in his chair, ' _Attention members of our illustrious organization! The world renowned mercenary, the Phantasm, has continued to kill our sitting council members. Thankfully, I myself have yet to be targeted. As a sitting council member, I request a gathering of the remaining council at the Grand Gotham Hotel at 11pm to discuss our next step in this incredibly pressing situation. Hopefully, we will be able to lay out a plan to deal with this before we are all killed! Signed, Andrea Beaumont, councilwoman.*_ '

Bruce's eyes widened in shock, a guttural roar coming from deep inside him as he lashed out against his desk, pummeling it with his fists until it broke.

"Alfred!" shouted Bruce.

"Yes, master Bruce?" asked Alfred, arriving at the entrance to the room.

Bruce threw the translation at Alfred's feet, who bent down to pick it up.

"Oh heavens my… Hydra is still active?"

"It does seem that way."

"But how? How could they have survived Captain America?"

"I don't know."

"And Andrea, my god, why would she join them?"

"She didn't join them."

"Master Bruce, it says -"

"She isn't one of them, Alfred!

"Then, if I may ask, why do you say that, sir?"

"Because I just know."

"Assuming you did not make any mistakes in your translation, sir, the evidence is irrefutable."

"Then I must have made some mistake."

Bruce sunk into his seat before the remnants of his desk, his hand covering his face as he leaned against the arm of the chair.

"She couldn't have joined them, Alfred, can she?"

Alfred kneeled down next to Bruce, placing his hand on his knee.

"If she did, sir, there must be a very good reason for it."

A tear rolled down Bruce's cheek.

"That has to be why she came to me, Alfred, for help. And look how I treated her. I should have known!"

"There is no way you _could_ have known, sir."

"No, no… I should have! I was going to marry her for god's sake god damn it!"

"Master Bruce, if you may, let me ask you this. She has a secret, a very precious, dangerous secret, and so do you. If you had to, for some reason, reveal to her that you are Batman, would you? Or would you take the first chance you get to run away?"

"I… I don't know."

Bruce stood up, his once sorrow expression concealed by a now harded face, a mask in which to hide his pain.

"I'm going out."

"You can't, you're still far too hurt."

"I have to. If Hydra is still active I have to do something."

"You're not Superman, master Bruce. You can't take on Hydra all by yourself, especially not in your condition. Need I remind you of the gashes on your chest? The stab wound in your gut and back? Or maybe even your fractured ribs? You have… limits, sir. You can't leap tall buildings in a single bound. Bullets don't bounce off your chest, as you've become very well aware."

"All men have limits. They learn what they are and learn not to exceed them. Batman isn't a man."

"But Bruce Wayne is, sir."

"I'm leaving, Alfred, and there's nothing you can do to stop me. I'm not a kid anymore."

To be continued…


End file.
